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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24115315">Bedsides</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/graysonsflight/pseuds/graysonsflight'>graysonsflight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Batdad, Batfamily, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Sick Children, The violence isn't so much the issue as the aftermath?, bruce is trying really hard okay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:41:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,505</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24115315</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/graysonsflight/pseuds/graysonsflight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce Wayne has come to realize being a good father means being at many bedsides. It means taking care of your children and making sure they feel loved - even if he can't actually say it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Barbara Gordon &amp; Bruce Wayne, Cassandra Cain &amp; Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson &amp; Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd &amp; Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown &amp; Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake &amp; Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>426</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Guilt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey there humans! Each of these chapters will focus on one of the kids and a time Bruce has been at their bedside. This first one is Dick when he's a new little Robin - and it is post run in with Two Face - so be warned for a very injured child. (Thank you to goldkirk for the medical beta) (Also thank you to the Batfam +18 discord for idea bouncing)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            This had been a mistake. All of it. What in the <em>hell</em> had he been thinking? He wasn’t a parent - he had no business raising a child, much less throwing him out onto the streets of Gotham in a mask and cape.</p><p>            “Stay with me,” Bruce pleaded, flooring the gas pedal. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dick was still clinging to consciousness. </p><p>            “Ba...B… I’m sorry,” the boy whispered. “He just came up behind me and…” Bruce had to work to not scowl as Dick started wheezing. </p><p>            “You have nothing to be sorry for,” Bruce said, reaching his hand out, but not making contact. He wasn’t sure if there were a place he could touch that wouldn’t bring more pain than comfort.</p><p>            Two hours. Dick had been out of his sight for <em>two hours</em>. And in that time Harvey Dent had grabbed the boy, tied him up and gone a few rounds with a baseball bat. <em>No</em> - Bruce knew he had to stop thinking of him as Harvey. Harvey, who loved kids and had worked long grueling hours as District Attorney, fighting for the rights of those Gotham had turned its back on – no. This had been all <em>Two-Face</em>. Bruce winced at the sound of Dick trying to suppress his hiccupping sobs.</p><p>            “Dick?” he prompted, torn between watching the boy and keeping his eyes on the road. “We’re almost there, all right? Remember what I taught you, breathe in for four, okay?”</p><p>            “M’sorry I let you down.”</p><p>            “No, you didn’t let me down, Dick,” Bruce whispered, his heartbeat hammering in his chest. <em>He </em>had let Dick down, not the other way around. <em>He </em>had failed him. And he would do everything in his power to fix this.</p><p>            He wrenched the steering wheel to the right, tires grinding against the loose gravel of the parking lot. Bruce had barely stopped the car, but he was already throwing his door open. He ran to the other side and, as carefully as he could, pulled the small boy from the passenger’s seat, wrapping the cape tighter around his shaking shoulders.</p><p>            “<em>Ow-ow-ow</em>,” the boy’s tiny voice trembled.</p><p>            “My Lord.” Leslie Thompkin’s was beside him before Bruce had even realized the door to her clinic had opened. “Alfred phoned me. What happened?”</p><p>            “Please, Leslie,” Bruce pleaded. “I didn’t know where else…”</p><p>            “Less guilt, more answers,” she chided. “Bring him inside to the examination room.”</p><p>            “Two Face,” Bruce spat. “Baseball bat.”</p><p>            “<em>This</em> is what I warned you about Bruce!”</p><p>            “I know…”</p><p>            “This is exactly why!” She didn’t have to remind him. Bruce remembered her warnings clearly. And now here was her prediction come to fruition; he would gladly take any lectures she gave so long as she could help the boy.</p><p>            Leslie moved around the room like a woman possessed, the whole time murmuring curses under her breath. Bruce felt every accusation like a slap, but every one of Dick’s shallow cries was a punch to his gut. He stood as far off to the side as he could, watching as Leslie worked. When she talked to Dick, her voice was soft, reassuring. She carefully explained everything she was doing even as he was slipping in and out of consciousness.</p><p>            “It’s a good thing someone donated the new small CT scanner to the clinic,” she bit out, eyes shifting to Bruce as she wheeled it over.</p><p>            “Okay, Dick,” she said. “This machine is just going to let me take a look at your chest and stomach. It’ll show me pictures on my screen here.”</p><p>            Dick’s whimpering acquiescence had Bruce moving forward, dying to comfort him, but Leslie’s sharp look pushed him back against the wall. She kept up a steady stream of words, telling Dick how well he was doing, and that it would all be over soon.</p><p>            “His arm is broken,” Leslie whispered, her eyes catching Bruce. “Small fractures along his ribs, and a lot of bruising…doesn’t appear to be any damage to his organs though. I hate to use the word <em>lucky</em> in this instance but…” She trailed off, moving to a locked cabinet; pulling the key from her pocket she worked the door open before pulling out a small bottle and freshly wrapped syringe. “He’s going to be in quiet some pain for a while, Bruce.” It was an accusation, one he deserved.</p><p>            “Br…B?” Dick’s voice wavered between them, his blue eyes flicking open as Leslie approached him with the needle.</p><p>            “I’m right here, Dick,” Bruce said, moving as close as he dared, least Leslie order him from the room this time.</p><p>            “I’m sorry…”</p><p>            “Shhh… it’s okay. Dr. Thompkin’s is going to give you something for the pain.”</p><p>            “This is morphine,” she said. “It’s probably going to make you very sleepy, Dick. I want you to just give into that, okay?”</p><p>            Bruce watched helplessly as Dick’s eyes followed the needle. The boy swallowed hard and at the last second turned his head away, choosing to look at Bruce instead of Leslie. He continued to whisper little apologizes until unconsciousness finally took him. Once he was out, Leslie went back to work, cleaning, stitching, and resetting the bones of his arm before working on a plaster cast. It felt like time slowed interminably as Bruce waited for her to be done. She finally washed her hands off in the sink before coming to stand before him.</p><p>            “You’re a fool,” she growled. “He’s lucky to be alive with the danger you put him in.”</p><p>            “I know,” Bruce whispered. “It won’t happen again. I’ll talk to him when he wakes up. I never should have…” He trialed off at Leslie sigh, “What?”</p><p>            “It’s too late for any of that now, Bruce.”</p><p>            “What do you mean?”</p><p>            “Are you planning on sending him into foster care?” she asked, an eyebrow arched skeptically.</p><p>            “Of course not! I’m not kicking him out!” Bruce reeled back. Dick had been with him a little over a year now, a part of his life. He would never send Dick away. That boy was his…well… he was <em>his </em>now.</p><p>            “Then you’ll be giving up your nightly activities?” Leslie challenged, refusing to back down. But Bruce couldn’t see that happening either. Gotham needed Batman and there was still so much he had yet to do. His silence gave him away and Leslie tossed her hands into the air in frustration.</p><p>            “Then this won’t be the last time I treat this boy,” she said, her voice exhausted. “He won’t give it up, Bruce. Not unless you do.”</p><p>            Bruce wanted to disagree, but he knew it was useless; she was right. She turned her back on him, moving back towards Dick as the small boy started to twist in his sleep.</p><p>            “What’s wrong?” Bruce asked. “I thought the morphine would keep him…” A keen cry from Dick’s mouth cut him off. “Leslie?”</p><p>            “Damn it,” she cursed. “He’s reacting badly to it. Some people do – we’ll have to keep that in mind for next time.”</p><p>            <em>Next time</em>. Bruce moved in closer, reaching out a hand to smooth the sweat soaked bangs from Dick’s face. He never wanted there to be a next time.</p><p>            “What do I do?” he asked.</p><p>            Leslie shook her head slowly. “Hold his hand, talk to him, be here when he wakes up. He’ll likely be scared and disoriented.” She smiled thinly at him. “I’ll be back. I’m going to see what else I can find to keep him comfortable.”</p><p>            Bruce nodded, moving for the chair in the room and bringing it closer as Leslie closed the door. With shaking fingers, he reached for Dick’s hand.</p><p>            “I’m so sorry, Dick,” he whispered. “I let you down. I never should have…I never should have had you out there. I don’t know what I’m doing, not when it comes to this – to you.” Bruce sighed, his eyes looking up to the ceiling. He wondered if this was what all parents went through on some level – if this was how Alfred felt every time he had come home in need of stitches.</p><p>            Rubbing circles on to the back of Dick’s small hand, Bruce let his mind drift off to what should have been, in a world without the demands of the cape and cowl. How, instead of this, they’d be at home, Dick finishing up his homework, and probably trying to sweet talk Alfred into just one more cookie before bed.</p><p>            “I’m going to do better,” he promised. “We’ll get better at this, I swear.” And he didn’t know if he meant get better at being Batman and Robin – or better at being a family. Because that’s what they were. Dick Grayson was his family. Bruce hadn’t adopted him, out of respect for his parents, but right now, watching this small force of nature in front of him fighting monsters behind closed eyes, Bruce had never felt more like a father.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Promise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jason is new to the manor - and a new son comes with his own challenges.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey there! Thanks for coming back to watching Bruce try. This chapter is less violent than the last - but mild TW for food insecurity, and a sick kiddo.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bruce was having a good morning. He had actually slept the night before so that definitely helped, but beside Dick’s usual shout of <em>Morin’ B!</em> as he’d gone thundering past his bedroom door, things had been quiet. And quiet was actually kind of nice. Checking the notes on his phone, Bruce saw that Dick had a reading check coming up at the end of this week, and Jason had a math test scheduled for tomorrow. He made a mental note to bring both of these up at breakfast.</p><p>            Homework was usually Alfred’s area of expertise, but Bruce was trying. He knew Jason’s first few weeks at Gotham Academy had been a little shaky, but he was determined to take a more active role. He’d made himself a promise that <em>he</em> would be the one at parent teacher conferences next week – for <em>both</em> boys.</p><p>            Setting his phone aside, Bruce finished toweling off his hair, trying to decide how long he was going to need to be in the office today and weighing the pros and cons of sneaking some case files at his desk. If he could get some of his more important work finished during the day, he might even be able to sit with the boys while they did their homework before training tonight. All of his careful planning was shattered, however, when the sound of Dick’s yell echoed up from the kitchen.</p><p>            “<em>Alfred! Bruce!”</em> His voice was high and anxious.</p><p>            Bruce barely paused to yank on his dress pants before he was sprinting down the hall, not bothering with a shirt.</p><p>            “What? What is it?” he demanded, breathless as he pushed open the swinging door. The sight before him made his heart stop:</p><p>            Dick was sitting on the ground, his arms tangled up underneath Jason’s skinny body. The younger of the two was a horrible shade of white, his eyes fluttering in confusion.</p><p>            “He just…” Dick stammered, “…he just blacked out. I caught him before he hit his head though.”</p><p>            “ ‘M fine. Lemme go,” Jason protested, sounding very much <em>not fine</em>. The boy tried moving to swat Dick away, but it only served to tangle them further.</p><p>            “Let him down, Master Dick, gently,” Alfred prompted, moving to one side as Bruce instinctively moved to the other. They carefully shifted until Jason was <em>almost</em> sitting up, his body leaning heavily against Bruce.</p><p>            “From the top,” Bruce said, eyes moving back and forth between them.</p><p>            “I don’t know, I was eating breakfast, he just came down the stairs and then…” Dick trailed off, using his now free hands to gesture vaguely.</p><p>            “Said I’m fine…Have to finish getting ready for school,” Jason just scowled. It wasn’t particularly menacing though, not when he could barely keep his eyes open. Alfred leaned forward, pressing the back of his hand to Jason’s face. The boy made a feeble attempt at brushing him away.</p><p>            “He’s running a fever,” he said to Bruce. “You’ll not be going in to school today, Master Jason. Let’s get you back to bed.” But before Alfred could even finish, Jason was flailing.</p><p>            “No! I have to!” he fought. Bruce sighed, seeing the anxiety on the faces of both his boys, he moved to scoop Jason into his arms. It did not have the desired calming effect.</p><p>            “Put me down!” Jason all but screamed.</p><p>            “I’m just going to take you back to your room,” Bruce said, trying his best to be soothing. “We’ll get you settled and then – ”</p><p>            “No! I just…I can go – just through lunch and then…and then…” He was clearly exhausted, his blue-green eyes brimming with tears. Bruce had to fight the urge to squeeze him tighter. Jason had been here for three weeks and he was <em>still</em> worried about food.</p><p>            “Jay, Alfie’s still going to feed you – I mean it’ll probably be soup but – ”</p><p>            “No!” Jason sobbed, his small body shaking and his teeth starting to chatter. “I can…I can do it!”</p><p>            Bruce breathed in deeply, shifting his weight so that he’d still be able to keep hold of the squirming boy as he turned towards the stairs. He could feel the heat radiating off of him.</p><p>            “Finish getting ready,” he said, turning his eyes to Dick. “Alfred will get you to school.”</p><p>            Dick nodded, his brows furrowed. As Bruce moved to the stairs, he could hear Dick asking if Jason was going to be okay, Alfred reassuring him and prompting him to pick up the cereal he’d spilled on the table in his haste to get to Jason. He’d have to remember later to assure him that he’d done the right thing. Bruce knew how much Dick worried over being a <em>good </em>older brother.</p><p>            “I can walk,” Jason whispered, bringing Bruce’s attention down to him. They were already more than half way back to the boy’s room, and Bruce very much doubted it. He pushed the door open with his hip and walked to the haphazardly made bed in the center of the room. Jason didn’t fight him as he pulled back the sheets and deposited him against the pillows. Bruce studied the way he shook for a second before he reached down to the blanket at the bottom of the bed. Slowly, he tucked it up around Jason’s shoulders, trying not to grimace at how boney the kid’s shoulders were. They’d been working with Leslie to safely up his calorie count, even amid Jason’s desire to train physically.</p><p>            “I’ll be right back, Jay,” he promised, turning to head back to his room. The boy nodded but said nothing. Bruce tried his best to smile.</p><p>            As he left, a list was already forming in his mind. First, he needed to change. He went to his room, grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts from his top drawer. He grabbed his cellphone, typing out a quick message to Lucius, and his secretary Clara, as he walked into the kitchen. Bruce knew where he needed to be today – and it definitely wasn’t the office.</p><p>            In the kitchen, he grabbed the bottle of acetaminophen and glass of juice that Alfred had left out. It was <em>just</em> a fever, he reassured himself as he pushed back into the room. Children got them all the time, especially when they were in new environments. According to Bruce’s research, it was a miracle it had taken this long.</p><p>            “Jason?” he called softly as he walked back into the room. He hadn’t wanted to startle the boy, but he shouldn’t have been worried; he was still sitting up where Bruce had left him, his eyes open, but glassy.</p><p>            “What’s this?” Jason asked, eyeing the two pills Bruce handed him cautiously.</p><p>            “They’re for your fever. Acetaminophen should help bring it down.” He handed over the glass as well, keeping his hand close, just in case, as Jason swallowed the pills carefully.</p><p>            Bruce set the glass down on the bedside table when Jason was done, his eyes searching the room.</p><p>            In three weeks, Jason still hadn’t done much unpacking. The few possessions the boy had brought with him were still sitting in boxes; the new clothes Alfred had bought were hanging in the closet – but even from here Bruce could see that many of them still had their tags. He wondered if Jason had even tried them on yet, or if the eleven year old was still waiting for the other shoe to drop – waiting for them to turn him back onto the streets of the city. A lump settled in Bruce’s throat as he thought about everything the boy had been through.</p><p>            “Wh…what are you doing?” Jason asked, his voice quiet. “You’re gonna be late…”</p><p>            “For what?” Bruce asked, turning his eyes down.</p><p>            “<em>Work?”</em> he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world to him.</p><p>            “Oh, no. I’m not going in today, kiddo.” Bruce tried to smile at him, hoping it would bring some reassurance. He wasn’t expecting the skeptical snort that fell from the kid’s mouth.</p><p>            “…<em>Why…?”</em></p><p>“Because you’re sick?” Bruce wondered if anyone had ever stayed home with him before. The face he made didn’t make it seem likely. “Do you want me to leave?” Bruce didn’t want to, but he wouldn’t force his presence on the kid either.</p><p>            “It’s your house,” he responded with a shrug. “Do whatever you want.”</p><p>            “Jason,” Bruce said with a sigh, bending his knees to crouch down at Jason’s level. “This is your house too.”</p><p>            “Yeah,” he scoffed. “<em>Okay</em>.” If it were possible, he made himself even smaller beneath the blankets, as if despite his brusque attitude he was <em>still</em> trying to take up as little space as possible.</p><p>            “I’m serious. When you’re feeling better, we can find some more things to help make it feel that way.” Bruce gestured to the mostly empty room around them. He wanted more than anything to see this room filled with Jason’s personality – wanted to see more than just boxes and bags and bare walls. Bruce wanted to know who this new human, that made his chest hurt with worry, really was beyond another traumatized child of Gotham.</p><p>            Jason appeared to think for a moment before mumbling something so softly Bruce could hardly hear him.</p><p>            “Excuse me?” he asked, leaning in closer.</p><p>            “I said I want a bookshelf!” Jason’s voice cracked at the end of his demand and Bruce had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. He’d gladly give the kid anything in the world, and he asked for a <em>bookshelf</em>.</p><p>            “Of course, Jay,” Bruce promised. “We can get you a whole wall of them if you’d like?” Jason only shrugged in response, but Bruce swore he could see the hope in the kid’s eyes. He reached to pull his phone from his pocket with a smile. “I’ll be right back, okay?” A small <em>‘whatever’</em> followed Bruce out the door.</p><p>            As he walked towards his office, Bruce opened up his phone and found the file labeled <em>JPT</em>. There were already a few things on it, like the math test that didn’t really matter right now, and raspberry jelly, no pulp orange juice, Neapolitan ice cream, and the colors green and yellow. Bruce smiled as he added <em>bookshelves</em> to the list and made another note to look up local woodworkers later. He wanted it special – and having Jason pick out every detail might help him understand that he had a home here long term.</p><p>            Stopping into his office, Bruce reached out a hand to his own bookshelves. Crowded in around the criminal justice reform, business theory, and engineering texts, was a well-loved cover of green and blue; it was exactly what Bruce needed.</p><p>            By the time he made it back to Jason’s room, the boy had his eyes shut. Bruce considered heading back to his own room, but thought better of it, moving instead to grab the chair by Jason’s desk. He felt it the second those blue-green eyes opened and followed his every move.</p><p>            “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologized, moving the chair to Jason’s side.</p><p>            “Didn’t.” His sleepy voice said otherwise, but Bruce just nodded.</p><p>            “Do you mind if I stay with you for a little while?</p><p>            “S’fine,” Jason yawned, narrowing his eyes at the book in Bruce’s hands. “What’s that?” Bruce held it out to him, showing off the cover.</p><p>            “It’s a story my father started reading to me when I was a little bit younger than you,” he explained, feeling the familiar tightness in his chest. “I was thinking about picking it up again. Do you mind?”</p><p>            “You read it to Dick too?” Jason asked, his voice so prickly, Bruce just wished that he could hug him, but he knew they weren’t there yet.</p><p>            “No,” he said with a laugh, trying to lessen Jason’s bite. “You’ve probably noticed, sitting still isn’t really one of Dick’s strengths. Not like you.”</p><p>            “I guess.” He moved himself further into the pillows, but his eyes stayed sharp, catching everything as Bruce leaned forward to tuck the blanket in around him.</p><p>            Surprised it worked, Bruce chanced a quick pat of Jason’s dark hair before settling back into his chair and carefully finding the first page.</p><p>            “<em>In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit,” </em>he started, remembering the sound of his own father’s voice.<em> “Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.”</em></p><p>            Reading with his father had always been special for Bruce. He’d been a little disappointed when it hadn’t called to Dick in the same way, but now, reading to Jason as the boy watched him intently hanging on his every word, he was glad. It would be something special –just for them.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>:) Thanks for reading! I appreciate your comments like you wouldn't believe &lt;3. Next week will be Tim's chapter, so hopefully I'll see you then!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Reassurance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tim just doesn't want to let anyone down.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It has been so <i> hard</i> not to post this. I'm really excited for you all to read it! Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading, sharing, and showing love. I appreciate the comments, kuddos, and bookmarks so much. TW: in this chapter are for vomit - but I don't get too much into it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            There was nothing quite like the sound of someone vomiting. Bruce felt his own gut clenching in sympathy as the sound assaulted his ears for the third time in as many minutes. He made his way over to the lavatory he had built into the cave only a year before. Alfred may have judged him at the time, but it seemed to be serving its purpose now. He walked over the to door frame and tapped lightly.</p><p>            “Tim? You all right?” While the boy in question was very obviously <em>not</em> all right, Bruce tried to give him the courtesy of not just barging into the room.</p><p>            “I’m fine,” Tim lied. Bruce peered past the doorway to see him crouched on the floor, arms cradling the toilet. He sighed, his mind taking him back to the two other boys he’d raised. The two he’d failed; one of them gone forever and the other not always speaking to him.</p><p>            “Can I come in?” he asked, already moving. Tim began to turn his head, only to shut his bright eyes and whirl back towards the toilet bowl.</p><p>            Bruce debated turning away, leaving him in peace, but worried it would be taken as rejection, and he knew Tim had had enough of that in his life.</p><p>            “You’re all right,” Bruce soothed, kneeling down behind Tim. He unclipped the cape of the boy’s uniform and pressed his palm softly into his back, Tim stiffening beneath his touch. Jason had been like that at first too, wary of any contact, and Bruce had just pulled himself back. He couldn’t help but wonder where he’d be now if he<em> had </em>tried harder<em>…</em></p><p>            “I’m sorry,” Tim whispered, pulling Bruce back to the present, to the very live boy in front of him. The one with glassy eyes and a sweat soaked face.</p><p>            “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said. “Do you think you’re done? We should get you cleaned up.”</p><p>            “No – I mean yes,” Tim stammered, pulling back and getting shakily to his feet. “I’m okay, I can do it.” He wobbled, his hand reaching for the cave walls to support his slight weight. They would have to talk at some point about their clearly different views on the word <em>okay</em>.</p><p>            “I just need a minute, and I’ll be good to go,” Tim said, effecting a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.</p><p>            “Right,” Bruce replied skeptically. “I’ll go grab your clothes for you then.” He reluctantly started backing away from the door. Based on the boy’s greenish color, he wasn’t convinced it was the best idea to leave him alone.</p><p>            “Why?” he asked, stopping Bruce in his tracks.</p><p>            “So you can change. Alfred will be happy to drive you home.”</p><p>            “You’re making me leave?” The dejected tone in his voice pulled Bruce back into the room. He reached a hand out tentatively.</p><p>            “Tim, you’re sick. You need rest.”</p><p>            “No- no I’m fine!” Tim protested, trying to straighten his posture as if that alone could prove his lie. Bruce tried hard not to smile.</p><p>            “Tim, you just spent the last five minutes throwing up in the bathroom. I don’t consider that fine.” Without consciously choosing to do it, Bruce wrapped an arm around the boy’s slender frame pulling him away from the wall, loaning him his strength. When Tim pressed into him shyly, Bruce knew it had been the right thing to do. “Come on, let’s get you some place more comfortable.” He half walked, half carried Tim over to the chair in front of the computer, pulled it out and lowered Tim as carefully as possible.</p><p>            “But this...” Tim started before clamping his jaw shut and inhaling sharply through his nose. Bruce waited, his eyes quickly scanning their surroundings looking for something to hand the boy if he was going to be sick again. A small trash can by the workspace caught his eye and he moved to get it, returning just in time to hand it to Tim so he could dry heave into it. From the sounds of things, there was nothing left in his stomach to lose.</p><p>            “Deep breaths,” Bruce tried to sooth, his hand returning to the small of Tim’s back, rubbing awkward little circles he hoped were comforting.</p><p>            “But this is your chair!” Tim wheezed.</p><p>            “And?”</p><p>            “I’ll ruin it!”</p><p>            Bruce couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped his mouth. “It’s just a chair, Tim.” Clearly uncomfortable with the pronouncement, the boy squirmed under Bruce’s hand, moving the wastebasket to the floor as he tried to stand. He didn’t like it, but Bruce didn’t try to stop him.</p><p>            “What are you doing?” Bruce would have been more amused by the kid’s tenacity if he weren’t so worried he’d pass out on the floor.</p><p>            “I’m just… patrol,” Tim stammered. “The fresh air will be good for me.” He made it about four steps before he started to sway on his feet. Bruce rushed to him, catching him just in time to feel Tim’s knees buckle. Patrol was nowhere near a possibility tonight. Bruce didn’t want him out of his sight, even if sending him home to his father was <em>technically</em> the right thing to do.</p><p>            “No.” He brought him back over to the chair, leaning down to adjust it so the top would lean back slightly. Reaching for his phone he turned to Tim. “Where does your dad think you are?” Bruce never would have believed Tim could get any paler if he hadn’t seen I with his own eyes.</p><p>            “He..uh…”</p><p>            “Tim?”</p><p>            “Ye – yeah?” He looked so deflated, so <em>sorry</em> for something he undoubtedly couldn’t control.</p><p>            “Is your dad home?” Technicalities be damned, Bruce already knew Jack Drake didn’t exactly deserve a son like Tim. Bruce was more than aware of his own shortcomings. That he wasn’t the best at communicating or giving praise, even when it was due. It was what had hurt his relationship with Dick. He could be strict at times, not always willing to bend his will for others. All of these things contributed to Jason’s loss. It had been Bruce’s fault, no matter how much blame Dick tried to take, Bruce knew it fell squarely on his own shoulders. He had failed his boys – and he hadn’t been able to handle it. Instead of leaning on others for support, Bruce had shoved them away. Almost violently at times, <em>but now…</em></p><p>            Looking down at the skinny fifteen-year-old boy in front of him, Bruce was filled with the need to comfort him, protect him, to tuck him into one of the empty beds upstairs and tell him to finally get some sleep.</p><p>            The way Tim let the silence drag between them was all the answer Bruce needed. If he sent this boy home, he would be alone.</p><p>            “I’m…I’m sorry,” Tim whispered, his eyes shifting to the floor.</p><p>            “For what?” Bruce asked, genuinely surprised, at least at first. He was beginning to know Tim, to understand him. He had even started a file labeled <em>TJD</em> on his phone, keeping track of all the important things – almost like he was…<em>another one of his boys</em>.</p><p>            Bruce fought against the guilt that welled up inside his chest. This was about Tim – this was not about him trying to fill in the empty spaces in his own heart. But sending Tim back to an empty house wouldn’t solve anything; Bruce would just spend the night worrying about him. He dropped his eyes when he realized Tim had been speaking to him.</p><p>            “I’m sorry, Tim. What was that?”</p><p>            “No,” the boy mumbled, his body folding in on itself. “<em>I’m</em> sorry. I know this isn’t what you wanted. This is so inconvenient for you and you shouldn’t… you shouldn’t – ” Tim stopped talking only to grab the trash again, hugging it to his chest as he heaved and nothing came up.</p><p>            It was the final straw for Bruce. He pushed the button on the computer console to alert Alfred, pulled the small headpiece away so Tim wouldn’t hear him and asked the older man for his help ensuring Tim would be comfortable. It had been a while since they’d had a sick boy in the house, but Bruce quickly remembered what to do – knowing Alfred was likely already a few steps ahead of him.</p><p>            “I’m sorry,” Tim moaned, once his stomach allowed him to talk.</p><p>            “Enough of that,” Bruce knelt beside him and took the trash bin. “Tim, you are not a burden. Do you understand?”</p><p>            The boy did not look convinced, but he nodded anyway. Bruce resigned himself to showing instead of telling. With a sigh he handed Tim back his clothes and instructed him to change while he turned his back.</p><p>            Bruce remembered all the times he had had to convince one of the other boys to do something, disguising it as training or a lesson so they’d just go along with whatever it was Bruce had planned to make them feel better. With Dick it had been basketball, Jason had been watching old movies. He searched his mind trying to come up with what he could do with Tim, angry with himself that he didn’t know already. He knew that Tim thrived on strategies and vowed to try every board game in the house when Tim was feeling better.</p><p>            “How long will he be gone?” He asked, moving to help a now changed Tim towards the stairs.</p><p>            “Two weeks?” Tim sounded more skeptical than anything and Bruce didn’t have the heart to ask how long Jack Drake had been away already. He knew that even when Tim’s mother had been alive, his parents hadn’t spent much time at home – and could gather that since her death, Jack spent even less time with Tim.</p><p>            “Right, well, you’ll stay here until he’s home,” Bruce decided aloud. He knew he probably should have checked with Alfred first, but figured the man would be glad for the extra life in the empty house.</p><p>            Tim’s body sagged against Bruce as the boy turned to look at him. “But I… you don’t…” The kid was exhausted, clearly drained from whatever bug he had caught, and Bruce just wished he could make him feel better. He had made his mistakes. Over and over again, Bruce knew that he let people down, but he was trying – and he would keep trying, because that was what good people did. Tim had reminded him of that. So now, Bruce would try a little harder. He would let go of the things he couldn’t change and focus on what he could. He would be better – he’d be worthy of the adoration he saw in Tim’s blue eyes. And even if he wasn’t <em>his</em>, Bruce swore he’d try his best to be the father that Tim deserved.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all so much! If your interested in snips and sneak peeks, I do post a bit on tumblr - you can find me at gothamsgrace</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Responsibility</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Stephanie comes in with bruises - and Bruce learns even more about the darkness in her life.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey there - welcome to Stephanie's chapter! TW for this one are going to be child abuse. The actual depiction of it is not described but the physical aftermath is.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            Logically, Bruce knew every child was different. They were just complex small adults with emotions and feelings and <em>hormones</em> so it only made sense. But every single one of them came with their own demons and no matter how cheery the one in front of him tried to be, hers were leaking through.</p><p>            “So anyway, sorry I’m late, Boss,” she said, her obvious lie about being forgetful and caught up with homework finally done. She squirmed some as Bruce continued to observe her, saying nothing.</p><p>            Clad in her purple hood, Bruce almost missed it; there was some purple that shouldn’t have been there.</p><p>            “How did you get that?” Bruce asked, pushing her hood aside to reveal her face and the too hastily covered bruise forming under her left eye.</p><p>            The sound of Tim’s sharp intake of breath was the only sound between them. Bruce would have sworn the temperature in the cave dropped a few degrees as Stephanie crossed her arms, the smile dropping from her face.</p><p>            “What? It’s not a big deal.”</p><p>            “It is,” Bruce corrected, his mind already searching for the right way to handle this. Injuries were a part of the job, but he made a point of knowing every mark left on one of his…<em>his responsibilities.</em></p><p>            “Seriously,” she said, “it’s nothing.” Bruce knew the tone in her voice said drop it, but he also knew that wasn’t something he was willing to do. He needed her to understand, needed to know that she was going to be safe.</p><p>            “It’s new,” he tried. “But you’ve had time to cover it. Did you run into trouble on your way here?” He knew she didn’t live in the best part of Gotham.</p><p>            “I’ve gotten worse out on patrol before.”</p><p>            Bruce hated the way she was avoiding answering the questions he gave her, could feel the way her defiance started to turn his stomach. It had been a while since one of his protégés had challenged him like this. He’d grown too accustomed to Tim’s more general compliance.</p><p>            “Then maybe we need to up your training until you’re keeping your hands up.” The second it was out of his mouth Bruce regretted saying it. He was doing a <em>horrible</em> job at trying to show he cared about her wellbeing.</p><p>            She fell in on herself, arms tightening almost like a hug, trying to self-sooth. “It wouldn’t have helped anyway.”</p><p>            “Stephanie,” Bruce attempted, pulling his cowl down, looking for a way to connect. “I need to know you can protect yourself. I won’t allow you out in the field if you – ”</p><p>            “Okay, first, I’ll be in the field with or <em>without</em> your permission,” she said, throwing her arms down like she was getting ready to fight him. “And second, I didn’t even get this in the field okay? Fighting <em>in the field</em> isn’t the issue!” As soon as the words had left her mouth, Bruce could tell she hadn’t meant to say them. Her body went rigid, eyes dropping to the ground.</p><p>            “Explain,” he prompted, moving to take a step closer.</p><p>            “I don’t owe you anything!” she nearly yelled, flinching as his hand reached out to her.</p><p>            Bruce stopped, his hand hanging in the air as he studied her. In that moment she reminded him so much of Jason it felt like he’d swallowed burning coals. Slowly, he lowered his hand, taking his time to back away from her.</p><p>            “Tim,” he whispered, turning his attention on the boy who’d been stone silent. “Head upstairs and change. Ask Alfred to put on some tea, and maybe something to eat.”</p><p>            “Sure thing, B,” he nodded. He tried to make eye contact with Stephanie as he left, but she refused to look at him, going so far as to shift away as he walked past. Bruce waited until Tim had crossed the threshold into the manor proper, his mind working to put the pieces together. Stephanie, just as defiant as before, fidgeted restlessly in the quiet; Bruce noticed that all of her movements now were hesitant, endless – but still as though she were thinking everyone one of them through before committing.</p><p>            “Stephanie, who hit you?” He had a fairly good idea, but Bruce needed more evidence before he could act. And he needed to know that his actions wouldn’t have a ripple effect; there couldn’t be more consequences for her. “Please,” he added after her silence continued to hold.</p><p>            “What do you care?” she whispered. “You don’t like me anyway.”</p><p>            “That’s not –” Bruce sighed heavily, adding her bitter words to his column of mistakes. He knew he’d been harder on her than some of the others; knew that he hadn’t yet learned what he could – <em>should – </em>about her. Stephanie’s file on his phone was inexcusably sparse. It didn’t matter that her chatter and charm reminded him too much of Dick. Or that her quick lashes of temper were so close to Jason’s and flirted with danger. Stephanie was her own person and she deserved better of him.</p><p>            “Lean your head back, please,” he said, trying to warn her as he moved closer. She listened, but the distrust was clear on her face.</p><p>            “What are you doing?”</p><p>            “I’d like to check that it’s just bruising.” He pulled the small flashlight from his belt, doing his best to shield her eyes from the glare of the light. “We don’t want to risk untreated damage to your cornea itself. There’s also a few places you could have sustained a fracture, although the swelling…” He trailed off lightly pressing his fingertips to the already swelling bruise. She hissed sharply as she leaned out of reach.</p><p>            “No thanks,” she sighed. Bruce nodded, taking her hand and pulling her towards the medical bay. He motioned to the empty cot and was relieved when she sat down without further prompting. <em>Ice</em>, she needed ice. Turning his back to her, he retrieved a pack from the cupboard, breaking it to activate the coolant before handing it to her.</p><p>            “It looks like it hurts, the ice should help.” He didn’t trust her to tell him how much pain she was in and he briefly wondered what it would take to get her to agree to an x-ray.</p><p>            “I know what you’re thinking,” she mumbled, moving the pack to cover her face. “It’s fine though. I’ve had worse.”</p><p>            If that had been meant to reassure him, it had failed spectacularly. The way she was trying to brush this aside only made Bruce worry more.</p><p>            “Stephanie.”</p><p>            “No, seriously, B. Eyes are the easiest to cover. If I’d had more time, even <em>you</em> wouldn’t have seen it.”</p><p>            There were so many questions running through his mind – including what the <em>hardest</em> to cover was, but he was afraid to know that answer. She was <em>fourteen</em> for Christ’s sake. Clenching his jaw, Bruce stood before her, reforming the questions over and over again in his mind, looking for the right key to unlock the pinched way she held her mouth.</p><p>            “My dad’s home, okay?” she whispered, her voice betraying her as the child she was. “He was just released on bail. He’s been home for like two days and…” a slow tear snaked down her uncovered cheek.</p><p>            “And he hit you?” Bruce asked. He had to consciously remind himself to keep the anger from his voice. She had clearly had enough of that for one night, and he doubted she’d be able to consciously separate his rage – to understand it wasn’t for her.</p><p>            “Arthur Brown’s never been in the running for father of the year.”</p><p>            “Mmm,” Bruce rumbled. Even now, she wouldn’t spell it out, the smallest part of her still trying to protect her father. Bruce knew that he failed at a great many of things and <em>he</em> certainly wasn’t a father of the year candidate either – but <em>this?</em></p><p>            “It’s fine,” Stephanie squeaked, her voice interrupting his thoughts. “I was just going to lay low for a while, you know? Stay out of his way or…”</p><p>            “Or what?” Bruce asked, wondering what plan she was forming.</p><p>            “Or…if you want, I can stick close? Figure out what he’s up to… it never takes long and then he’ll be locked back up where he belongs. What?” she stopped. “Why are you looking at me like that?”</p><p>            Bruce scrubbed his hand over his face, trying to relax his jaw. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” he told her. “You’re so <em>young</em> and – ”</p><p>            “I’m almost fifteen. I can take care of myself! In fact, I’ve been dealing with my dad for a long time and I don’t need some superhero to come and rescue me. <em>I save myself</em>.” The fire that radiated from her one good eye almost burned him and Bruce couldn’t decide which emotion he felt the most: pride in her spirit, or guilt that he hadn’t shown her enough support to trust him now.</p><p>            “<em>Shouldn’t</em>, Stephanie,” he whispered, crouching so that <em>she</em> could look down on him. “I never said <em>couldn’t</em>. There’s a difference.” Slowly, she lowered the ice pack from her eye; it was still swelling up and would likely pain her for days.</p><p>            “Head upstairs,” Bruce said, surprising them both.</p><p>            “Huh?”</p><p>            “You and Tim, pick out a movie. Stay in tonight.”</p><p>            “Why?” she asked. Her one eyed glare of suspicion would have been funny if it hadn’t been so wrapped up in trauma.</p><p>            “I have something to take care of, but I’ll make it an early night,” Bruce promised. He could see the way she wanted to fight, wanted to challenge him, but slowly she nodded.</p><p>            “Can we…” she started in a whisper. “Can we order a pizza or something? I missed out on dinner.” And Bruce hadn’t thought his heart would hurt more tonight.</p><p>            “Or something,” he agreed, knowing full well Alfred would balk at the idea of delivery pizza. “Now go.”</p><p>            “Why are you being so nice?”</p><p>            “I’m not,” Bruce told her, already making plans. “I’m testing to see if you can follow orders.” He’d have to talk to Alfred, see how soon they could have a room in the manor set up for her. Bruce didn’t want her anywhere near her “home” until Author Brown was back in Blackgate. The sudden feeling of her arms around him startled Bruce from his thoughts. He should have known better than to let his attention wonder.</p><p>            “Go on,” he said, patting her gently. It had been a while since he’d hugged one of his…<em>oh</em>…<em>oh no.</em> He cleared his throat carefully as he untangled himself.</p><p>            “Thanks, B.” She ran up the stairs with her usual enthusiasm back in place.</p><p>            Bruce waited until he heard the door at the top of the Cave shut before opening up a call to Barbara.</p><p>            “Hey,” she said, picking up on the second ping. “Thought you were taking the kids out tonight?”</p><p>            “Change of plans,” he told her. “I need you to find out what Author Brown’s been up to.”</p><p>            “Steph’s dad?”</p><p>            “Yes. Can you meet me in Otisburg in thirty? I believe he and I are due for a conversation.”</p><p>            “On it,” Barbara agreed, the sudden coldness in her voice making it clear she understood. “Batgirl out.”</p><p>            Bruce pulled his cowl back up. Stephanie Brown may not have been his daughter, not <em>really</em>, but he could try and be a better father figure than the one she had.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all so much for your support with this. Your comments, kudos, and bookmarks have meant so much! With this chapter in the books I just have Barbara and Cass left to go. Thank you!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Choice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Just before she looses consciousness, Barbara insists she be allowed to keep her own secrets.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So...this chapter gave me a lot of grief. I think it's mainly because it has to do with how Babs becomes paralyzed. This story is compliant with my Lost and Found Universe - and since we've been dealing with the even of her paralysis <i>there</i> I think it forced me to finally finish this. So - I know it was late, <i>but</i> please enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>            Bruce’s mind raced faster than the car as he sped through the darkened streets of Gotham and into the Narrows. He had been here before, had been too late before, had sworn over and over that <em> this </em> would never happen again, and yet here he was, sets of civilian clothes thrown haphazardly into the front seat of the Batmobile, praying he wouldn’t be too late.</p><p>            “Robin, report,” he demanded, trying to stop himself from screaming into the silence.</p><p>            “She…she’s unconscious now, B.” Tim’s voice shook on the other end. “She’s still breathing but…” Bruce didn’t need Tim to fill in that blank; they were running out of time.</p><p>            “Have you called an ambulance yet?” Bruce asked, watching their location beacon flash on his screen.</p><p>            “Not yet, she told me to – ”</p><p>            “Tim, listen to me, call it in. That’s an order. I’m almost there, Make sure they know it’s her and – ”</p><p>            “B, I know,” Tim said, his voice stronger than before. “Babs, she…<em> we </em> got it all figured out. That monster isn’t going to take this from her too.”</p><p>            Bruce had listened to Tim’s argument, heard him repeating phrases he knew Barbara had given him. The teen has <em> insisted </em> that Barbara be allowed to keep her secret identity. Before she’d lost consciousness, the two of them had come up with a whole story to tell the police – that the two of them had been on their way to the dinner when a gunman stopped them <em> and… </em></p><p>            Bruce slowed his breathing as he threw the car into park, grabbed the clothes and rushed towards his protégés. Tim knelt beside Barbara, his hands covered in her blood; somehow, he’d already gotten her out of the top half of her uniform.</p><p>            “Make the call,” Bruce instructed, handing Tim his civilian cellphone and taking his place beside Barbara’s pale form. He only half listened as Tim reported the fake attack. The boy wasn’t acting as the tears started to fall down his face. As carefully as he could, Bruce began working Barbara into one of the outfits she left at the manor. Her blood soaked into the clean fabric luridly. This was wrong. All of it was wrong.</p><p>            He should have been here. He should have been with them instead of back at the cave. He should have <em> told </em> Barbara about the research he was doing. If he had just done things differently they wouldn’t be here now.</p><p>            When they had called him, Bruce had listened, horror stricken as <em> Barbara </em> had explained what had happened. She had told him she’d gotten cocky, followed a hunch instead of the facts and followed someone down an alley, leaving Tim on his own. Then she’d apologized, over and over again, until Bruce had begged her to stop. He’d flown into action, grabbing their clothes and flying towards the car. Watching her, her breathing faint and skin clammy, Bruce knew he never should have allowed this.</p><p>            “It’s done,” Tim whispered, pulling Bruce from his thoughts. The boy’s face hardened into steel as he looked at Barbara before grabbing his own change of clothes from where Bruce had dropped them. “B, you need to go.”</p><p>            “I’m not leaving the two of you to – ”</p><p>            “<em> I’ve got this, </em>” Tim insisted, zipping his hoodie up over his bare chest. He bent down, using his clean shirt to press against Barbara’s wound. “It was her idea Bruce. It’s what she wants.”</p><p>            The sound of sirens in the distance pushed his body to leave on instinct. Bruce snatched the pair of bloody uniforms from the ground, clenching them tight in his fists as he stared down at them.</p><p>            “<em> Please, </em>B,” Tim begged, his eyes tight with worry as he flicked his gaze towards where the emergency vehicles would likely be coming from.</p><p>            It wasn’t that he didn’t trust their plan; Barbara and Tim were two of the smartest people he knew, despite the eldest being only twenty. Bruce<em> knew </em> it would work – that was the problem. Once again, one of his would suffer for his choices. They were both still so young – he never should have had them in this situation to begin with. He never <em> would </em> have let them follow this case if he had known it would lead to the Joker. The demonic hell clown had already taken enough from this family.</p><p>            Others might talk about Bruce’s bravery but he knew the truth. He was a coward. If he stayed, everything would end – and maybe, he thought, it should. He should be the one to look Jim in the eye and explain what had happened. The truth – not the lie that Tim would spin for him.</p><p> “<em> B </em> , <em> now, </em>” Tim hissed as the ambulance raced closer. “This isn’t about you. She’ll never forgive you if you blow her cover.”</p><p>            Her <em> forgiveness </em>? Bruce knew he didn’t deserve that, never would again after tonight. With one last look, he seared the gruesome tableau into his memories. It was the least of what he deserved. He turned his back and ran for the car – earning himself another level deeper in hell.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p>            Bruce stood at the threshold of the room, anxiously gripping the bouquet of flowers too tightly. He could see her, alive, conscious even, but he could hardly believe it.</p><p>            “I’m awake,” Barbara called out to him, her tired eyes finding his. “You can come in.”</p><p>            “I wasn’t…” Bruce started, wincing as his dress shoes squeaked on the tiles. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.”</p><p>            “<em> Why? </em>” She asked, her voice hoarse. “What’d you do?”</p><p>            Bruce shook his head, placing the bouquet down on the table beside her bed. His list of sins was fairly long and complex. He’d had plenty of time to contemplate them as he’d been scrubbing her blood from his and Tim’s uniforms. They didn’t have enough time in the world for all the wrongs he had committed.</p><p>            “You’ve been popular,” he said instead, trying to smile as he eyed the other flowers she’d accumulated. As if flowers alone could lessen her pain or allow her to walk again. Bruce had seen her file; Gotham General was fairly easy to hack into. Barbara Gordon was lucky to be alive. Paralyzed, but alive. Looking at the flowers, Bruce suddenly remembered all the dance recites Dick and Jason had gone to for her and he wondered if the colorfully bouquets just reminded her of things she would never do again. He was ashamed that he’d brought them, but he hadn’t known what else to do.</p><p>            “You and Dad are the only ones to visit though,” she whispered. “I think everyone else is scared.”</p><p>            It wasn’t fair, but Bruce could understand that. He hadn’t been brave enough to come before today, and he certainly could have – the window to her private room would haven’t have given Batman any trouble, but…</p><p>            “How’s Timmy?” Leave it to Barbara Gordon to be in her hospital bed, two days out of surgery that had saved her life, and worried about others.</p><p>            “He’s…” Bruce started, unsure if he was crossing a line. “He’s been talking to Dinah.” Having Dinah Lance working as a councilor for the League was once again saving Bruce from conversations he was fairly certain that, as a father, he was supposed to be having. But again, he was a coward when it really mattered.</p><p>            “Good,” Barbara sighed, her eyes slipping closed. “Sorry, the drugs make me sleepy.”</p><p>            “No,” Bruce reached out tentatively to squeeze her hand. “You have nothing to apologize for.”</p><p>            Their relationship had always been different. Barbara was headstrong in a way Bruce could never control. On more than one occasion she had stared him down and reminded him that she had a father, but that had never stopped him from worrying, or being proud of her like he imagined Jim would be.</p><p>            “I’m glad Tim’s talking to her,” she said, her eyes opening slowly. “I don’t want…this isn’t his fault.”</p><p>            “No,” Bruce agreed. “And it isn’t yours either. Barbara, I’m sorry. I never should have… <em> All of you. </em> I’ve made mistakes and I – ”</p><p>            “Don’t,” she interrupted, a fire burning in her eyes. “I made a choice Bruce. You don’t get all the blame here.”</p><p>            He noticed appreciatively that she didn’t try to excuse him from some of the blame at least.</p><p>            “Listen,” she continued. “I don’t regret this.” <em> How could she not? </em> “I’m not sorry for all the good I’ve done.”</p><p>            Bruce understood her. There were nights when his body had felt broken and still the only times he regretted his life choices were moments like these, when his children had suffered.</p><p>            Someone with a mind like Barbara’s could have done anything, gone to college anywhere, but instead, she had stayed in Gotham, despite being recruited by several Ivy League schools. <em> And now… </em></p><p>            “I never could have left my dad,” she said as though she could read his mind. “And I wasn’t ready to leave Timmy and Stephanie or the team either. Not after…”</p><p>            Not after everything else that had been lost. She didn’t have to say it – Bruce knew the responsibility that sat heavy upon Barbara’s shoulders. The way she had picked up what she deemed <em> sibling duty </em> after Dick had left. Something she wouldn’t have had to do if Bruce had been better at actually <em> talking </em> to his children.</p><p>            “Barbara, listen. Anything you need, I – ”</p><p>            “I know…I know I can’t be…” she shook her head. Bruce could see the tears welling in the corners of her eyes. “But I still…I want to help and see the kids and…”</p><p>            “You will always be a part of this family, Barbara,” Bruce whispered, finally understanding what she was trying to say, and hating that there was even a doubt in her mind.</p><p>            “You didn’t have to bring more flowers, you know,” she said, changing the subject abruptly. “I actually like the first ones better.”</p><p>            Bruce cocked his head in confusion, following her gaze the vase of yellow daisies only just starting to wither.</p><p>            “Dad says they just showed up one night? I had almost… <em> thought </em>, but…” she paused shaking her head slowly. “It doesn’t matter, like I said, the drugs make me a little loopy and…”</p><p>            Bruce nodded his head slowly, eyeing the flowers he most certainly did not bring. He pulled out his phone and made a quick note of them, something about them seeming familiar enough to warrant further investigation.</p><p>            “I should let you sleep,” he said after a minute too long of silence. She looked exhausted, and he knew that there were things that he could be doing. Jim had mentioned that she’d be moving back home once she was released, but Bruce knew that wouldn’t last for long. And there was a building he had in mind. It would need some work, but he was fairly certain he could make it happen. <em> He would</em>. It was the least he could do for her.</p><p>            “Thanks for coming,” Barbara murmured, her eyes already gliding shut.</p><p>            Bruce took a moment to watch as she drifted off to sleep. Not for the first time, he imagined  a world without capes and cowls, where his children had grown up without the added pressures of <em> saving the world</em>. It was his recurring daydream that would never be. He had failed them, so many times and now he would do what he did best. He turned go, already flipping through his phone. There were things beyond Bruce’s power to fix, but maybe a home of her own could be the beginning of an apology.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all so much for reading! All of your comments kudos and book marks have been amazing! The last story I have planned for this piece will be Cass. It is mostly planned out and the conversations have been outlined, so here's hoping it won't take nearly as long. If you have enjoyed my characterization in this piece - please feel free to check out my <i> Lost and Found </i> series - which this is actually a part of. 💛💛 And if you'd like to see me more often - please find me at gothamsgrace over on Tumblr.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Helped</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>At forty years old, he could still keep up with the criminals of Gotham, but teenaged girls were their own special type of exhausting. Mild <b>TW:</b> Burns that are not at all described.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is the final chapter in this set of stories! Thank you so much for coming along with me as I got to explore some Batdad. As always - this chapter fits into my Lost and Found world - but it can be enjoyed as a stand alone.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  
  <span>Bruce knew what it was like to worry. He had grown accustomed to the all consuming feeling of anxiety as it grew in his gut, twisting his thoughts until all he could see was the worst possible outcome of any given situation. Having played a part in the upbringing of three boys and two girls did that to a person. He may not have been a legal father to all of them – but they were his charges, his responsibility. And he knew he had made a lot of mistakes. Adapting was important, and this third young lady certainly tested all of his limits.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>With as much speed as he could manage he drove the Batmobile through the cave entrance, his hands tightly gripping the wheel. Before the vehicle was even fully stopped, Bruce was opening the door.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“Cassandra?” he called out, the second the engine’s roar had died down. “If you’re here, I need you to let me know. Now please.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>Instead of words, a crashing sound over in the medical bay sent Bruce running. The girl was like a wraith, sometimes more shadow than human and if she was hurt enough to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>crashing</span>
  </em>
  <span> around, he knew he needed to see her. With the lights still dim, Bruce could barely make out her figure as she moved to hide behind the central examination table.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“Cassandra?” he tried again, this time quieter as he pulled the cowl from his head and tossed it onto the counter. He hated the way she still hid from him sometimes, like she was worried what he’d do to her. “It’s okay,” he promised, holding his hands placatingly in front of him. “I’d just like to see you, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>Slowly, the girl crept out from behind the main examination station situated in the center of the room. She had already stripped down to the tank top and compression shorts she wore beneath her uniform.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>Bruce stayed where he was, allowing her to make her way carefully towards him, his eyes scanning her in the dim light. Cassandra held her left arm tightly to her chest, discoloration visible. If Bruce hadn’t been spending the last few months studying her every tick and movement, he might have missed the injury. The blank emptiness on her face, despite what must have been a very painful burn made Bruce’s heart ache. If he ever got his hands on David Cain, there would be hell to pay.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“I’d like to turn the light up,” he said simply, working hard to keep his own voice from betraying his worry. “Is that alright with you?” He made sure to keep every one of his movements deliberate and clear. The last thing she needed now was to be worried what he was going to do.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>Cassandra nodded once, halting her progress forward so that the table still lay between them.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>Without ever turning his back, Bruce walked to the dimmer switch and turned the lights up slowly. Being able to see her more clearly did nothing to ease the tension he felt.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>Soot was smudged across the girl’s face; her dark eyes red as she continued to study his movements. In the light, Bruce could see the contents of one of Alfred’s carefully packed medical kits haphazardly scattered about the table between them.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“I can help you with that,” Bruce said, nodding to indicate her arm. He watched as the girl in front of him took a step back, pulling her injured arm in tighter to her body.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“Not weak.” Her voice was quiet, scratchy from what Bruce assumed was smoke inhalation, but it was still resolute.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“No,” he agreed. “You are not weak.” He wanted to move to her, hug her tightly to him and finish checking her for any other injuries, but instead Bruce stood still, letting her dictate the course of their interaction.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“I can,” croaked, gesturing vaguely with her right hand to the supplies.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“I don’t doubt that for a second,” he nodded. “But the point is, you don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have to</span>
  </em>
  <span> do this by yourself. That’s what it means to be a part of this team.” Bruce tilted his head to the side, making sure that he held her gaze. “It’s what it means to be a family. We help one another.” He hoped that she understood the depth of what he said – how much it meant to him to have her as a part of his family, as one of his children. And that even though he had been scared, he was still proud of what he knew she had accomplished tonight. Bruce wasn’t sure that even given a dictionary, he could correctly convey all of that with just his words.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>Cassandra continued to study him for a moment, but what she found in his face must have been enough. She climbed up onto the table, one knee tucked to her chest as she offered him her burned arm.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>Bruce whispered his thanks as he slowly turned towards the sink. “Give me a second to wash my hands,” he told her. From years of watching both Alfred and Leslie, Bruce had learned to announce everything he was doing. While he had always preferred to work in silence, his children had always wanted to know exactly what came next from disinfectant to the final doling out of medication.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>He showed Cassandra the small, prepackaged towel before he touched it to her skin. “This will sting some, but I need to use it to clean out your burn,” he explained. “Then, I’m going to be using this cream to help with the healing process. It will tingle and I need you to let me know if it gets to be too much.” Cassandra’s only response was to raise her chin at him as if in challenge, as if something as mundane as disinfecting and cleaning an injury would be enough to bring her pain.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>He worked methodically, occasionally stopping to adjust the light above them or turn her arm carefully between his fingers. Bruce would never be able to wrap his head around how so much strength could fit into such a small lithe form.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“So,” he ventured calmly as he finished wrapping her arm. “Barbara says you ran into a burning building?” He had to stop himself from smirking at the way her eyes narrowed and her lips twisted into a frown. “Don’t look at me like that,” he scolded. “She isn’t telling on you to get you in trouble. She was trying to make sure I knew how to help.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>Cassandra turned her head away from him with a heavy sigh, which turned into a small cough at the end. “She said wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“Of course she did,” Bruce nodded. “The building was on fire.” He pulled away from her and allowed his eyes to track over her body, looking for any other injuries he might have missed. She was lucky. The burn on her arm had been bad, but it seemed to be the only one. “Barbara called me three times,” he told her. “She said you stopped answering your comm.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“Angry?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“No,” Bruce said thoughtfully. “She might sound like she is, but really, she was just scared.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>Carefully, Cassandra reached out to tap against his wrist. “Are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“I’m not angry. And now that I’ve seen you, I’m not scared either. But I was.” He waited until she made eye contact with him again before he continued. “Cassandra, what you did was incredibly dangerous.” He watched as a tiny smirk settled onto her lips. She gestured delicately to the emblem on his uniform and then back to her own chest.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“More dangerous than usual,” he conceded, understanding her point. Dangerous was what they did on a regular basis.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“I helped,” she said, her voice strong and clear, proud.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“You would have.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>Bruce sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. Now that the adrenaline of being worried had fled from his system, he was beginning to feel drained. At forty years old, he could still keep up with the criminals of Gotham, but teenaged girls were their own special type of exhausting. “Probably,” he said at last, knowing it would be useless to try and lie to her. Her smile widened triumphantly and it was almost worth it, just to see that.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“But Cassandra,” he said, moving as close as he dared without trying to make her feel boxed in. “I need </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be smarter than me. I know what we do is dangerous, but in order for me to do my job, I need to know </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> are being as safe as possible. And that means listening to Barbara.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>In his years of trying to raise children, Bruce had used stern warnings, threats of grounding, and even the same disapproval he had leveled at adults in the Justice League. He had had varying levels of success and absolute failures. He tried not to think of his two eldest, but memories of Dick and Jason still came, followed closely by memories of Tim’s shattered looks and Barbara’s unimpressed derision when Bruce still hadn’t been able to communicate. He felt a heavy weight settle in on his chest, and no matter how good he was at schooling his emotions, he knew that Cassandra saw it too. It was what she did.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“B?” she whispered, reaching out with her good arm to touch his wrist. “It hurts?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“Sometimes, yes,” Bruce agreed. He didn’t know how to explain to her how scared he had been at the thought of losing her. How the barely contained terror in Barbara’s voice when she had told him Cass had stopped responding to her comms. was something he had hopped to never hear. She was younger than Bruce had been when he had first brought Dick home, but he knew Barbara understood.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“You need to call her,” he said finally, slowly reaching out a hand to rest it gently against the side of Cassandra’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“I should…” Cassandra paused, her bottom lip pulled into her mouth as she tried to find the right word. Bruce had to suppress a smile as he wondered if Cass knew she had gotten that particular look from Barbara. “Apologize?” her head tilted to the side in consideration.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“That’s up to you,” he said. “You should only apologize if you really are sorry, and you’re going to work to not repeat the action that caused pain.” That had always been one of Bruce’s flaws. He tended to repeat the same mistakes over and over again and he knew his actions had consequences.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“Sorry for not answering – not for helping people,” Cass said thoughtfully as she lowered herself from the table. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> help.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>Bruce sighed, but he smiled all the same. “I understand,” he told her. “And Barbara will too. She would have done the same thing at your age.” Once again, memories of a different time, a different Batgirl flying around Gotham with Dick and Jason made Bruce’s chest ache. So much of their childhoods had been wrapped up in the danger he had brought to them and he wondered, not for the first time, if Barbara, now the one left behind, regretted the path she had taken.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>He walked with Cassandra over to the computer station and handed her the tablet he knew she preferred. Barbara picked up on her end before the call could even fully ring once.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“Cass? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“Okay,” Cassandra responded, holding up her already bandaged arm so that Barbara could see it.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>Bruce could feel the sigh of relief he heard from Barbara in his soul. “She has some second degree burns on her left arm, and a bit of a cough from the smoke, but other than that she appears to be alright,” he reported, anticipating Barbara’s next three questions.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“Thank you,” Barbara replied, but her eyes stayed glued to Cass. Bruce understood that as well. He knew Barbara’s nerves wouldn’t be fully calmed until she was able to see Cass for herself.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“Come home when you can, Alfred will probably have some cookies ready.” He realized his mistake as soon as he’d said it. The Manor had never been technically Barbara’s home, although there was a guest room that no one else had ever stayed in. And the older girl had chafed at the idea of Cass living there as well – going so far as to make sure there was a bedroom set up for her at the Clock Tower as well. But finally, her eyes lifted up to meet him.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“I’ll see what I can do,” she whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>Bruce could feel more than see Cassandra’s excitement at the prospect of Barbara coming over. He considered letting Tim know as well, thinking it might be enough to get him to stay the night too.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>“Excellent,” he replied, still holding his hope close to his chest. “I’ll give you two some time.” He placed a kiss atop Cassandra’s smoke scented hair before turning to leave. As he walked away he could faintly hear Barbara calmly repeating some of the same things he had said earlier – that she wasn’t angry but scared but that she was better now.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>He knew that there were pieces missing from his family; human sized holes that he couldn’t fill in with substitutes, but none of his children had ever been replacements. They were each their own people, complicated, complex individuals and he knew that he loved them. As he made it across the threshold from cave to home, he promised them silently that he would continue to work to prove that to them in whichever ways they allowed.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much to everyone who has been with me reading this year. I very humbly appreciate all of the love I have received. All comments and kudos and bookmarks bring joy. Take care of yourselves please - because you are important. 💛</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(So yes - this technically fits into my Lost and Found story universe - but the chapters are fine as stand alones)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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